Desirable (mxm)

forty-nine; i will kill you

A part of me wants him to stay asleep for as long as possible because I can't bear the thought of the conversation we're going to have when he wakes up. If he's going to expect me to have left.

But I said I'm not leaving. Not when I'm concerned that he's suicidal.

He wished I didn't find him in time. How could he wish that?

I've never felt heartbreak like this. Yet I'm right beside him, enjoying the warmth of his body and his scent that surrounds us. But it's not good enough because I know things aren't okay, I need things to be okay.

I need him.

My eyes keep flicking over every inch of his face. Almost like I'm memorising it–for what... I don't know. But I do it anyway. Just in case.

I push back his hair again, my palm smoothing over his forehead. My lips tremble as I glance down at his cute nose and parted mouth.

"I love you." I whisper as my voice cracks. "I love you so much, you have no idea."

Milo doesn't shift. He's still sound asleep.

But the confession of my love makes my chest lighter, even if he didn't hear me.

I sink down into the pillow beside him and stroke my hand across his bare shoulder. I will lay here for as long as I have to. I'm content with holding him because it's the closest I've been in days and I'm not taking a second for granted.

At some point a groan escapes Milo's throat and he shifts between my arms but I don't move them. I keep a hold of him. Then when those blue eyes flutter open to look me right in the face, I place my hand on his cheek.

"Hi," I whisper, a small smile on my lips.

He blinks a couple times, eyes slightly red from his extended sleep but no doubt that he needed the rest after the trauma he went through. "Are you okay?" I ask.

Milo licks his lips, he's probably severely dehydrated. I lean over to the bedside table behind me and grab a bottle of water. "Sit up," I order him, he doesn't fight me. He shuffles back into the headboard. I undo the lid and place the bottle to his lips and watch as he takes a couple sips.

When he's done I place the bottle back and watch as he adjusts his eyes again. It's like he has no idea where he is, who he is. "How are you feeling?" I question again.

His brows bunch together as if he's in pain but he says nothing.

Worry floods my body. "Milo," I exhale. "Talk to me. Please."

When he shakes his head and exhales a breath of strain, my heart pounds in my chest so fast that I think it's about to explode.

"I need to be alone," he mumbles so quietly that I barely hear the words.

"No," I rasp. "Milo, don't push me away."

His jaw tenses and his eyes close so tight that I think they might rip. "Please. Just give me some time."

"After what you told me last night?" I exhale desperately. "I am not leaving you."

As his eyes open, I'm completely breaking down again. "I need to think."

"About us?"

"About everything. Nate, please."

I press my forehead to his. "Fuck. Please don't do this."

"Give me time," he whispers weakly. "I can't do this right now."

"I'm not leaving."

A wave of discomfort flashes on his face. "I don't want you here, Nate. If you care about me, I need you to leave me alone. You're making this worse. You're making this worse!"